Desperate Boys with Dangerous Toys
by PHDinSPN
Summary: Weechester/Teenchester fic. Something wrong with Sam and Dean needs Bobby's help to get to Sam in time to prevent a tragedy. Mostly Bobby POV , but some Sam POV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a multichapter stor**

**Disclaimer: I have no rights to supernatural or its characters**

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Those boys are going to be death of me.

I hung up the phone and started gathering my things as it seems I had some traveling to do. It seems that Sam is sick and Dean is frantic and can't get in touch with John. I didn't waste time on getting specifics from the desperate teenager; the fact that he felt concerned enough to call me told me enough about the seriousness of the situation. Part of me was thankful that Sam was sick, because God knows I never would have heard from Dean if it was his own health at risk. Then again if Sam was the healthy one I might have heard earlier as that boy was far too practical to risk his brother out of stubborn pride; but that assumes Dean wouldn't hide his condition until he was on his deathbed.

I couldn't help but sigh as I started my old beaten up pick-up after calling Tom, my nearest neighbor, to look after the dog and make sure some the town punks didn't do anything stupid in my scrap yard, such as getting eaten by the dog. Luckily the boys were in an easy day drive, only about eight hours if I respected traffic signs, which I had no intention of doing. I hadn't seen them for months; since John and I's last blowout. John had a way of making you want to strangle him with your bare hands given any significant time with him and its not just me Pastor Jim and even Caleb have shared similar sentiments. I feel if you can even induce homicidal thoughts in a man of a cloth, than a sinner like me had no chance. In fact I'm pretty sure we all continue dealing with him mainly because of those two boys; I have no doubt that if it ever came to a true breaking point, I would never see the boys again, which is the only reason John isn't full of buckshot right this moment.

Plus, I knew Dean would never forgive me; that boy was loyal to a fault. Sam's reaction was always harder to pin down, some days I felt that he would help me load the gun, while others he would stand in front of it. The former attitude seemed increasingly common as he neared his teen years. Part of me even felt pity for John at the thought. Unlike Dean, who embraced this life, Sam would give him hell every step of the way; why was his favorite question and John was never one to explain himself. I chuckled at the thought. It was increasingly evident that Sam was very much his father's son even if both would kill you for saying it. Unlike his father though, he was not consumed by the pursuit of vengeance, but rather knowledge and I feared what that might mean for the little family, especially Dean, who would be the civilian casualty in the inevitable war between father and son. I shook my head to stop myself for borrowing trouble, but I couldn't stop my thoughts, especially when the youngest Winchester was in danger.

Lost in my thoughts of the two boys that had quickly wormed their way into my life since the first day John had dropped them off on my doorstep, I drove on, only stopping for a quick pit stop to fill the old girl's tank and grab something to appease the growling of my stomach. While I was shoveling some diner gruel into my gullet, my phone rang. It was Dean of course trying to get an estimated ETA. While his voice was calm, it was the false calm cracking at the edges.

"I am on my way and will be there as soon as I can. How is Sam?"

"He's stable I think, but he's not getting better." The frantic edge of Dean's voice had me signaling for the check and gathering my things so I could get back on the road as soon as humanely possible

"Just hold on, I'll be there in a few more hours" Less than that if I could manage it. Dean's "hurry' had me almost sprinting to my car as he hung up. At my age and weight I'm sure it was a sight to see. I threw the phone in the passenger seat as I climbed in the old truck. I might have even whispered a prayer; I'll deny it, but I was desperate, as I peeled out of the gas station heading east to West Bend, Wisconsin and two apparently desperate boys

**A/N: Thanks for reading**


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: I was inspired so this is getting posted much sooner than I planned :-D. Stuff with school is dying down so I should be able to focus more on this and my other ongoing story, but I can't promise that all my updates will be this quick though i will try :).**

**This is unbeta'ed so I apologize for any mistakes. As I post new chapters I will attempt to clean up old so please let me know of any issues.**

**The boys ages are 17 and 12 almost 13 (this happens in the spring of '96)**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story. I'm so humbled by your support. You guys are the reason I got this second chapter up so fast. **

**Disclaimer: I did not own supernatural. i only own my own warped mind.  
**

I was about an hour out when I called Dean back, I was surprised when a pleasant but decidedly female voice in other words, definitely not Dean, answered:

"This is Milton Hospital, how may I direct your call today?"

It shocked me into silence as I stared at the number. I was used to the boys and other hunters calling from unfamiliar numbers from hotels or whatnot, so when Dean had called from an unfamiliar number I didn't even flinch, assuming it was the hotel number. The boys didn't have a cell phone so it was a safe assumption or it was until that voice shattered that illusion.

"Hello is anyone there?" that professionally polite asked again with an edge of annoyance starting to creep into her tone.

"Sorry about that, I am calling about a patient there, a Sam." I blanked for a second as I was unsure what name the boys were going by as if one of them was in the hospital it wasn't likely to be their real one.

She must have taken my unintentional pause as an end to my request as she replied "I cannot disclose patient information over the phone, especially that of a minor." While the first part was done by rote, the second part was revealing and promising as it demonstrated she not only knew who exactly I was talking about confirming his presence as a patient, but also wanted me to know she was inclined to assist me in any way that would not outright violate patient confidentiality.

"I completely understand, but is there any way I could talk to a visitor then, Sam's brother, Dean, he has been calling me from this number all day?" I asked playing off the sympathy I sensed in her voice. I was moderately comfortable identifying Dean as Sam's brother as while their fake IDs were sometimes of non-relatives I couldn't see Dean taking that chance with health insurance, as it might cause him to not be allowed to see his sick or hurt brother or vice-versa. I knew that Dean's word would have been final on the matter; When it came to taking care of his brother, I could count on Dean's will to triumph over even John's. The only person I had seen succeed in overruling Dean about Sam's well-being was Sam himself and that was only because Sam was both more stubborn than anyone I had ever known including John and had puppy dog eyes that no mere mortal could resist, especially an overprotective big brother; Even with all that going for Sam, he usually found it easier to accede to Dean's wishes than fight it. Personally I suspect that Sam accede most of the time because he knows how much Dean needs it than from actual agreement or inability to fight it.

The female voice on the phone disrupted my musings as she sighed "I can't do that. But if such a person was here, I could then pass on a message for him to call you back."

"Oh yes, then hypothetically could you tell Dean that I'm almost here and would appreciate directions."

I could sense a smile in her voice. "Hypothetically, I could do that if such a person existed and was right now impatiently pacing around the waiting room waiting for me to get off the phone."

"Thanks"

"What for? We were talking about hospital policy. Have a good evening." She hung up without waiting for a reply.

While I was certain she was on our side, I held my breath until my phone began ringing again, which it did almost immediately. I guess she wasn't exaggerating about Dean's proximity. I answered on the first ring and let out a sigh when I heard Dean's voice.

"Bobby? So I hear you are close?" I could sense the beginning of defensiveness in Dean's voice. If I knew that boy, he had been putting off telling me that they were at the hospital as long as humanly possible for good reason; hospitals meant life or death for hunters, especially Winchesters.

"Yea I'm within an hour of the hotel, not sure how far that is from the hospital." I knew it was a dig, but I was still recovering from my shock and was battling a mixture of hurt and fear at my newfound knowledge.

"Um, yeah I was going to call you about that. It's not far." He then proceeded to direct me to the hospital. Luckily it was relatively close to the hotel and easy to get to as it was literally right off the highway.

I made it to the hospital in a little over thirty minutes without attracting the local fuzz miraculously. I parked the truck in the first available space and hoofed it to the entrance. It was a small local hospital so luckily I wouldn't have to bluff my way past too many people. I made a beeline to the receptionist desk that greeted me on entering the hospital. Three women were manning it, all looking a little bit frazzled as they handled the phones, files and concerned family members. My instinct was to run up and demand to know where Sam and Dean were, but I knew that with them both being minors without a guardian, the hospital staff would be reluctant to tell that to anyone that couldn't prove themselves to be family. So instead I scanned the three women trying to discern the one most inclined to help me out. That's when I heard it.

It was her voice, the voice of my co-conspirator, asking one of the receptionists a question while handing off a chart. I knew this was my chance and I was not going to waste it. I started to call out her name to get her attention before I realized I had no earthly idea what it was. Instead I called out the classic "You there", which of course didn't get her attention but did earn me a glare from some other people at the information desk. I moved on to plan B, which was a high risk high reward scenario; I sprinted forward and put my hand on the woman's arm to get her attention. She turned quick as a snake, removing my hand in the process ,to glare at me for my insolence and I have no doubt that she was seconds away from ordering security to boot my butt out..

"I'm looking for Sam and Dean" I quickly supplied to her venomous look, knowing that my name was as unknown to her as hers was to me. At the utterance of those names, she softened and re-evaluated me as friend rather than foe. This all happened in seconds and before anyone else could react to the seeming harassment of a staff member by a crazy looking hillbilly, my new-found ally diffused the situation with a smile and a loudly spoken, "I've been waiting for you to get here, please follow me Mr. Smith, your son is quite anxious."

I followed her by instinct, she was a petite woman but she had a presence that commanded obedience and she was my most likely hope of getting to those boys, one of which she had said was anxious. I knew that if Dean was worried enough to let it show to a stranger than he must be close to full on panic. Worrisome thoughts of desperate boys plagued me as she led me through the hallways dividing up the different sections of the hospital. We stopped in the hallway in front of the door to the pediatric wing. There she turned to me asking, "So Mr. Smith, what is name?"

"It's Bobby, Bobby-"

"Bobby it's nice to meet you. I am Annette, the current duty nurse." I was taken aback by her interruption before I realized her tactic. Knowing my real last name might cause issues in the future, especially if I or more importantly the boys needed me to use an alias. While I was already impressed with this force of nature before, I was blown away by her astute observation of the situation and wisely chosen cautious course of deniability.

"Hello Annette, you have no idea how pleased I am to meet you face to face." She smiled at my allusion to the call before beckoning me into the waiting room. Once inside, her face shifted from warm to professionally polite as she returned to the nurse's station. I shook my head in amazement; I sometimes forgot that not all civilians were as dumb or helpless as they seem, before getting back to the task at hand.

I scanned the waiting room looking for the lanky teenager I knew had to be in it if Annette's word choice in the lobby had been any indication. I spotted him almost immediately, a lone teenager stood out like a sore thumb in a waiting room filled with families. He was fidgeting in his chair with his head down resting between his hands. He must have been out of it as I got within three feet of him before his head shot up. When his eyes locked on me, recognition and relief quickly flittered through those green eyes, before he visibly regained his composure and gave me his usual cocky grin and unreadable eyes. I didn't believe it though, I knew this boy and for him to let even that momentary slip of emotion, things had to be bad.

"So what's happening, boy?" I gruffly demanded, knowing any outward sympathy from me would make Dean flee or shut down, while an order would get me answers. I might curse John for how he raised his kids, but I understood it and knew that an order would reassure Dean as nothing else would, because it meant I was taking charge, as John would have if he was here and, while Dean might be a seasoned hunter, in this situation he was still very much a kid that needed his father. Hopefully an adopted uncle would suffice for the time being.

He just looked at me, desperation leaking back into his eyes, before again visibly recollecting his composure and standing up. Now Dean will always be the little kid I played ball with in my eyes so it's still disconcerting that nowadays he towers over me. It reminded me how fast he's growing up, both him and Sam; Thinking about the youngest Winchester brought me back to the present with the same alacrity as a bucket of ice water.

"Let's go into the hall, it's a long story." Dean said as he headed towards the door beckoning me to follow him into the hall. I followed my heart filling with dread as any remaining hope for a quick solution died with the teenager's grim tone.

**A/N; so we still don't know what's wrong with Sam. I fully intended that to be explained this chapter but it got away from me in the best possible way. I promise almost everything will be explained next chapter when Bobby and Dean talk. I have a plan now and its only a little bit evil. Anyway thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry that this took so long to update. I intended to finish up a week ago but you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. Real life got complicated but things are settling down and I cautiously promise more regular updates  
**

**Thanks again for everyone whose reviewed followed and favorited ( I promise review responses are coming!)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Dean shuffled his feet and looked a little lost when we got into the hall. My worry was killing me and I never claimed to be a patient person, so before I had time to think better of it I snapped

"Boy, what's wrong with Sam?"

"It's a long story" He hedged

"It's not like I'm waiting for a hot date. You know after driving all day to get here"

He sighed and I knew I would finally get the answers I needed

"It all started when Dad left to look into a possible wendigo in Oregon…" Dean then proceeded to tell me how Sam landed in a hospital bed and Dean in the waiting room.

It was both worse and better than I could have imagined.

It seemed that part of the reason John had left the boys behind was that Sam was still nursing some bruised ribs from a salt and burn; Dean and John both thought risking Sam on a wendigo hunt would be unwise, especially when it was and I quote 'an easy one man job'. I snorted when I heard that as I had no doubt John just acceded to Dean's judgment, which come to think of it was a positive step for John. Anyway the point being was that Sam was far from a 100%, but far from hospital ready when John left.

Everything would have been okay if the youngest Winchester had confided in Dean that he was having trouble at school. As Dean put "the runt thought he could take care of some mere human punks by himself regardless that they both outweighed and outnumbered him." Again I barely resisted an eye-roll. I mean a stubborn prideful Winchester, so unusual. Dean's hypocrisy aside, Sam probably would still have been fine that is without those ribs. Even outnumbered, outweighed and in considerable pain, Sam was able to fend them off at first; the problem was that he couldn't just use his fists and feet like usual and had to pull out his butterfly knife when the boys couldn't take the hint. He didn't actually cut the boys no matter how much they seemed to need an object lesson, because he knew that knife marks raise questions as did a twelve year old who not only brought a knife to school on a regular basis but also could wield with military precision. While Dean had always been gifted with firearms (I am fairly certain, his pistol was and still is his constant schoolyard campaign), Sam 's affinity tended towards sharp pointy things.

"He still didn't tell me. Still wanted to be normal or some other crap like that" Dean bitterly interjected at this point in the story. During the telling he had shown pride in Sam's ability to defend himself, but he was obviously hurt that Sam didn't come to him. Guilt was mixed in there as well for failing to read his brother's mind and protect him. I understood his pain at being deprived of his god-given duty to protect Sam by Sam himself leaving him bereft of anyone to blame, except of course the small boy that was also the source of the anger and worry. On the other hand I understood Sam as he was getting to the age where having your older brother to fight your battles hurt his hard fought sense of independence; especially when said brother wasn't even at the same school. I saw how much Sam struggled to not be a burden on his family, especially Dean; Sam was becoming more aware of the load that Dean carried between taking care of Sam and pleasing his father. I always personally believed half the reason Sam and John fought so much was because Sam needed an outlet for the constant internal battle between needing Dean and not wanting to burden him; a battle that Dean was largely oblivious to because in his mind, taking care of Sam was a privilege not a burden. Winchester pride is a funny thing and both those boys had it in abundance. _idjits_

The next part, Dean was a bit hazy on, but it seems that on being thwarted the bullies decided to up the ante with their own knife, resulting in Sam being rushed to the hospital from a stab wound in his gut. Nothing had been said about Sam's own knife, which was a small blessing as it forestalled some troubling questions.

"How serious?" I demanded, more harshly than I intended, but I knew how bad gut wounds could be, interrupting the flow of Dean's story rushing him to the conclusion and the present.

"I don't know." he yelled. I stood there dumbfounded at the raw emotion on the boy's face. He was on the verge of tears, which I knew meant the verge of a total collapse.

I wasn't used to dealing with strong emotions, well besides anger and annoyance, from the Winchester or really anyone since my wife died, so I literally froze for a couple seconds. Finally I plowed on the only way I knew

"Explain yourself, Dean." I might judge John sometimes for his tendency to order rather than ask his children, but I had no allusions that I also tended towards orders and gruffness when under stress be it physical or emotional. It's one of the reasons I never had children of my own.

As it had done in the waiting room, my tone snapped him back to attention and from the edge of the emotional abyss he was so obviously on the edge of.

"They won't let me see him. They found all the bruises and contacted CPS" He brokenly answered.I was stunned into silence at Dean's announcement. I wasn't expecting that, Sam almost being disemboweled or cursed, maybe, but CPS was far worse as it could destroy both boys in one fall swoop.

"They can't get a hold of Dad." He added brokenly in response to my shocked silence and with that I had the final piece. While John had one of those new cell phone things, he was deep in the woods and I knew from experience how spotty reception could be. There was strong possibility John wouldn't know his family was in danger until it had been shattered. And I had no doubt if they took Sam, there would be no family left; Dean wouldn't function long without Sam especially when it was due to what he would see irrationally as his own failure to protect him. And Sam wouldn't do much better, people always comment about how much of Dean's life revolves around his brother, but what most overlook is that Sam needs his brother just as much.

Unfortunately I could even understand CPS I mean you combine Sam's bruises with John's absence and it has all the trademarks of negligence if not all out abuse; Dean of course was seen as a potential abuser and thus barred entry while they got everything sorted out. I thanked whatever deity was listening that John had decided to emancipate Dean a year earlier or there would be two boys in protective custody instead of one.

I rubbed my face in my hands finally understanding the desperation that Dean was trying to contain.

Part of that desperation came from not being able to see or physically touch his injured brother; I had no doubt that Sam if he was conscious or not sedated up to the gills was suffering also. While these boys revolved around each other constantly, they became inseparable when one of them was injured. I lost count of the times I felt like an intruder in my own home when one of them was sick. I caught John with a similar expression every now and then, but his was tinged with a strange mix of pride and hurt. I imagine it must be hard when neither of your kids call for you when they hurt, but each other. Yet John was careful to protect that special bond between his sons by deferring to Dean and even Sam on occasion even if it regulated him to second string. It was that bond that both had driven Dean to the breaking point, succeeding in battering his pride enough to ask for help from an old fart, and allowed him to continue on; He couldn't break because Sam still needed him. I was starting to appreciate John more and more in his absence, especially when faced with a distraught Dean.

"Wait, you told me he was stable on the ride here. How did you know?" Focusing on details was my go to coping mechanism.

"Well, I heard that nurse, you know the one who told me you called, talking about him." He looked confused and a touched annoyed at me for wasting his time on details when I should be helping him get to his brother. I was almost giddy at his answer as I saw the first ray of hope for a happy resolution since we stepped out in this godforsaken hall.

"So she just happened to be discussing Sam's condition in the waiting room where you just happened to overhear." I confirmed with a raised brow, hoping that Dean would see what I had.

"Yes that's what I said" He snapped. At my continued stare I could see the wheels beginning to turn as he noted my tone and actually processed what I said.

"Oh, you think she'll help us?"

"I don't know boy, but it does seem interesting, I mean how often do you hear nurses gossip about patients in the waiting room and then have the same nurse hypothetically relay a message about the same patient."

I saw the hope creeping into Dean's eyes and felt compelled to temper it. I was grasping at straws hoping to find gold; this straw was far from proven.

"We have to tread carefully. We may have already found the limit, but I think there might be a way for us to see Sam. But timing is important. Has the social worker or anyone from CPS talked to you?"

Dean zeroed in on me like a hunting hound finding its quarry when I mentioned Sam. " No, when I first came one of the nurses told me that Sam's case was being referred to CPS and that I was not allowed to see him before things could be straightened out. But there's been nothing since then."

I grunted but I still had the faint hope that Sam's case had been lost temporarily in the bureaucracy in government. In a strange way , the lack of available legal guardian makes a compelling case for Sam's case being shuffled to the end of the pile as he was seen as safely contained in the hospital for the immediate future with no way of being checked out. I was planning on exploiting that loophole. Of course, it could be that the social worker was right now driving to the hospital to take Sam in formal state custody. Either way time was of the essence.

"Ok, Dean, I'm going to try to get us in to see Sam. I need you to calm down and play along." Dean nodded and stiffened and I saw him become the hunter he had trained to be. He aged years in a matter of seconds and lost all vulnerability. Both Winchester boys did that when they had to and it was always eerie to watch children become veterans with the blink of an eye

Shaking loose from my discomfort, I straightened my spine and walked into that waiting room, I had two boys to reunite and a family to save.

**A/N: I Like my dramatic one-liners. For the next chapter I was thinking about getting Sam's POV ( I really really intended for him to make an entrancwe already but I guess he's still recovering). Tell me what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N; Sorry sorry about the delay. This is why I should never make promises. As always this is not beta'ed so all mistakes are mine and I pologize for them in advance.**

** I decided to go with the Sam POV. this chapter happens chronologically before the others**

**Thanks for everyone who has favorited, reviewed and followed**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural the voicemail would be fixed, the samulet would be back and there would be far more weechesters ( in other words it would be pure unadulterated schmoop with the barest sprinkling of violence) Thankfully saner minds than me are responsible for it.**

**Sam POV**

Unexpected light woke me up. I started to yell at Dean, because if I was this tired, no way was it early enough for us to get up, but nothing came out. Well not nothing exactly but only a croak. That's when it hit me. I wasn't home or rather the current dump dad left us in; I can't remember the last time I actually called a place home. Regardless this wasn't it. Instead of grungy walls with wallpaper that was at least a decade older than me and undetermined mounds of clothes courtesy of my perpetually lazy big brother I was greeted with sterile white walls and the pale green of a dividing curtain.

"Damn it" I cursed as the pieces began clicking together. I couldn't help but think that Dean would have been so proud for my lack of control as I tended to refrain from cussing. What he didn't know was that I only refrained in front of him partly to deny him the satisfaction of 'corrupting' me, but mainly because I made such an issue of it when I was younger; pride goeth before the fall as Pastor Jim would have said. When I realized I was rambling in my own head, I knew it couldn't be good because I only did that when I was bored or nervous or scared out of. my wits. I was guessing it was the latter one if the borderline panic I felt creep up my spine was any indication.

I remembered it them. Those stupid kids. They wanted to prove they were tough and picking on someone half their size was the only way to do it; but they were just stupid kids. It should have been no big deal, I mean I could have dealt with them in my sleep, but they had the worst timing. They had been hassling me for weeks. Nothing big, just making bad jokes and shoulder checking me into my locker. I guess I wasn't showing the proper amount of terror because they decided to up the ante this week and jumped me after school. I probably could have held my own or just gotten away but I had been having a bad day. My English teacher had decided that interpretation meant whatever his opinion was and nothing else resulting in a less than stellar grade on my interpretation of Poe. He told me I was being too literal about the tell-tale heart: idiot. Anyway add that to the constant irritation that was my ribs especially when my gym teacher sadistically picked dodge ball for the week and it all added up to a bad day. So when those punks surrounded me after school talking that big talk and trying to psych themselves up to hit me I didn't want to deal with it. So in my infinite genius, I showed them my knife and told them to go home to their mommies and I quote "leave me the hell alone before I cut you down to size." The last part was completely Dean's fault, his awful sense of humor and bravado was rubbing off of me. I guess they sensed my underlying annoyance or just thought I was crazy because they looked at each other and fled shouting back threats for retaliation. But honestly it's hard to take anyone seriously as a threat when they shout at you from 100 yards as they run away. So I didn't think of it when I came home. I honestly didn't mean to keep it away from Dean; I just had other things on my mind like that stupid paper

Dean had been amused that I was so mad about an English paper, calling me geek boy. Yet he oh so conveniently forgot the extra target practice Dad assigned before he left and the pizza he ordered that night was my favorite, which I knew didn't even make his personal top ten. The rest of the night was actually pretty nice just pizza and bad action movies on the couch. Thoughts of wanna-be tough guys and English papers were firmly out of my mind by this morning (I assumed it was still today).

School was nothing to write home about until my walk home where those same stupid punks showed up, minus a couple of the more skittish members. Long story short, the leader, some junior from the high school pulled out, I swear to god, a steak knife. I actually stated laughing when I saw it, but it wasn't so funny when he thrust it into my gut. I tried to dodge but those infernal ribs made that difficult and slowed my reaction time to pitiful levels. Next thing I remember besides thinking "Dean's going to kill me" is the sound of yelling and running feet. The kid must have gotten lucky and nicked just the right spot because I've been nicked before and never gone into shock that fast.

So now here I am dressed in an embarrassing hospital robe (this was one of the few times I'm thankful I haven't had that promised growth spurt) with a bandaged side. I'll admit that last part was kind of a relief because it meant they were done stitching me up. And since I was feeling almost no pain I was also drugged to the gills, which explains why I kept rambling if only in my own head.

I turned instinctively to tell Dean that stitches with drugs beat the hell out of them without. That's when it hit me, Dean wasn't here.

I couldn't believe it. I scanned the whole room at least three times before I had to reluctantly accept it. I mean Dean was always there when I was hurt, making jokes about how much of a baby I was, but doing so with a comforting hand on my shoulder or my leg. He rarely leaves me alone when I'm sick or injured; He got less sleep than me that last time I had the flu; He barely left the room. I didn't usually think about it but now faced with its absence I realized how much I counted on his presence to keep my fears at bay. I was shaking as the realization of being totally alone for the first time in my life set in. I was almost 13 years old but right then I felt like I had that one time I had gotten lost at Wal-Mart when I was a toddler: scared and overwhelmed

And of course with my luck, it was then the nurse chose to come in. She took one look at me and rushed to my side. She had kind eyes and a soothing touch but it was wrong and I felt myself stiffen. Like that toddler I felt like I was almost incoherent.

"Dean. Where's Dean?" because that's all I could think about. My brother wasn't there when I needed him and that meant something horrible had happened. My mind wouldn't let me follow that thought as my self-protection instincts finally kicked in.

She must have read my desperation because she replied quickly in a comforting tone " Oh, your brother? He's in the waiting room, He's pretty worried about you"

With that reassurance that Dean was both alive and marginally unharmed; I couldn't say unharmed because he has been known to check himself out before, the heavy weight that had settled on my chest lifted and I could breathe again.

"But then why? I scratched out.

She stiffened at that, almost imperceptibly, but I had been trained to look for such tells, since long before I knew why. It pissed me off. I knew that she was keeping something from me. Something about MY brother.

"You must be tired, that wound was no joke and you should take it easy." At her patronizing tone and avoidance I felt my shoulders stiffen and my eyes harden as I stared her down.

She shifted uncomfortably at my glare and I could see the war with herself behind her eyes but I couldn't muster much sympathy. She had become an obstacle between my brother and me.

Her back stiffened and I knew she had come to a decision: I only hoped it was to help me because I knew I was in bad shape to make a break for it, which seemed my only other option. Just in case I shifted closer to the door and moved my left hand closer to the IV in my right arm. She let out a huge breath that did little to comfort me.

"Well, Sam, you were largely incoherent when you came in, but you kept muttering about someone named Dean" I flushed at her amused smile. It seems my subconscious still is that needy four year old that wants his big brother to make everything better.

"But you had no other information on you. Fortunately you were still on campus so we contacted your school who gave us two numbers: one for your dad and one for Dean. It is the hospital policy to call the guardian first, but when your dad didn't answer we called your brother. He rushed over and has been here ever since." While I appreciated her filling in the gaps, her answer was still a non-answer about why Dean wasn't in here now, especially if he was unhurt (I mean I already knew my dad couldn't answer).

My confusion and annoyance must have shown because she launched back into her tale.

"Well our inability to get a hold of your father and your brother still being a minor raised a couple red flags. Then when we were prepping you for surgery we found the bruises." My mind was racing at this point trying to figure out a logical explanation. I wish my dad would have let me play soccer because if nothing else it provides a cover for such things.

"I um fall down a lot." I lamely explained. Her raised brow was her only acknowledgment of my admittedly lame attempt at explaining.

"Well understandably such injuries, especially when we found those bruised ribs of yours, was enough to sound the alarm" I knew where she was going but I prayed I was wrong. I just stared at her hoping for the impossible.

"We contacted CPS and they requested we keep you isolated especially from your family until they can make their own evaluation." My heart dropped like stone; I was surprised that the monitor didn't pick up the change. I felt fear rolling in my gut, and like always when I got scared enough, my mouth gains a will of its own.

"Of course because those ignorant self-righteous pencil pushers have any idea about what's best for me? Why didn't you wait to ask me? I could have told you how ridiculous it is to even think that I would ever be in danger from my own brother even when I was drugged out of my mind if you had bothered to wait. But no you had to jump to conclusion and make a mess of everything. How about those idiots that stuck a knife in my gut, are they being evaluated for being the menace to society that they are? Of course not. I swear I am surrounded by idiots. You want to help me. Get my freaking brother out of the bloody waiting room and into this cell because that's what this hospital room is. If you don't I will be the very definition of uncooperative and you will not keep me here that I promise you. " I ran out of steam as I realized I was revealing to much by threatening to leave but that fear in my gut, which no longer could be masked with anger now that I had stopped talking, turned to tears much to my embarrassment. I was almost 13 years old and those hormones I had been warned about liked to screw with me. That's why I was crying, hormones. Not the fear of never seeing my brother again.

She blinked at my outburst and my subsequent sobbing. She didn't make the mistake of comforting me again, I still had enough anger in me I couldn't guarantee her safety if she had, but instead looked away politely letting me calm myself down.

I finally got control of myself and changed tactics and attempted to reason and hoping she would think my earlier threat just an irrational outburst rather than my current backup plan.

"Please let me see my brother. Neither Dean nor my Dad is responsible for the ribs or the bruises or anything. I know he must be worried sick and if you just let me see him I will be the model patient and answer any questions anyone has including CPS. Please." I lost some of my control over my voice at the last word. I knew I was practically begging and later I would blame that on the drugs and stupid hormones, but I know that I would do it again if it meant Dean being where he was supposed to be, with me.

Her face softened "You know I can't do that. It's against hospital policy." Her refusal hurt worse than that stupid stab that got me into here in the first place.

"But, I do believe you Sam." She whispered as she leaned in to check my IV and start the new waves of painkillers.

As she straightened up she said in a more normal tone "A new shift begins in a couple hours. So I should warn you that in the past we have had issues with hospital security during these shift changes and unwanted visitors have been known to get into patient's rooms, even those in isolation. So please be sure to use your call button if such an incident occurs. With the hectic nature of nights in the ER, if you don't call us it might be hours before someone checks in."

I just stared in shock before latching onto the life raft she offered with both hands. I started to smile before her eyes warned me that this interaction might be observed by others and I knew that given my earlier outburst, any compliance on my part after her refusal would be suspicious. Luckily I still had enough lingering anger and hurt to give a pretty convincing glare as she left. She paused in the doorway.

"I know this is hard, but it's what's best for you. Just don't forget you aren't alone."

I let the new wave of drugs carry me away secure in the knowledge that I would be seeing my brother in a couple hours.

**_A/n _ You guessed it that was Annette. I wanted to explain why she was so willing to help and set the stage for the next chapters. There should be two more chapters after this  
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**Thanks for sticking with it. Bobby POV returns next chapter**


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: Sorry, sorry for the long gap between chapters. All I can say school and life got complicated but things are settling down. Anyway there should be one more chapter ( an epilogue). On a more story related note.  
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**Thanks for everyone who favorited, reviewed or followed my story. I really appreciate it. You guys guilted me back :-p**

**As always all mistakes are mine.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own unhealthy obsession with the family business. I have no knowledge about the medical field or hospital procedure so please forgive any errors.  
**

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We sat down on re-entering that waiting room. We had to bide our time. I knew that Annette would be more likely to help us if she could do so covertly, which meant waiting to get her out of earshot and preferably eyesight of her colleagues. That is if the waiting didn't kill us.

Dean was driving me crazy; he kept muttering under his breath, shooting glares at me and fidgeting. I mean the teenager almost never sat still on a good day, but now he was actually vibrating with nervous energy. His fingers were tapping, I swear to god, a Metallica song. I couldn't tell you the name to save my life but I had spent enough time around Winchesters to recognize it. He always got this way when something was wrong with Sam or come to think of it when they were younger out of sight. It actually was almost cute if it wasn't driving me slightly mad.

"Settle, Boy" I growled as he started tapping the chair for the third time in that god forsaken rhythm in the last ten minutes.

I got a glare and a muttered "Then do something." That disrespectful tone was another sign of his growing impatience as Dean had been trained to be respectful of other hunters if not any other authority. In that too he was a soldier.

I sighed and scanned the room once more hoping for a change. It was on the scan that I found my opportunity; the receptionist was getting up holding a packet of smokes and thanking Annette if her hand gesture was anything to go by. I carefully kept myself still and felt Dean stiffen as he took in the change of situation as well. As soon as the receptionist left the waiting room, I casually stretched and got up. As I approached the front desk Annette looked up and I saw something like resolve flitter in her eyes before she looked down and started writing something.

Before I could even get my tongue around what to ask Annette started talking

"How may I help you?"

"I wanted to know if there was anything you could tell my about my." I paused trying to figure out how to proceed.

"Your son?" she prompted with a falsely innocent expression.

"Yes, my son Sam"

"I would love to help you, but I cannot divulge that information." The answer was expected but her subtle tapping on the file in front of her wasn't. I pretended to lose my balance in order to unobtrusively lean over the desk as I steadied myself. Annette's finger shifted to point at a number near the top. A number I was almost sure was a room number. If true, Annette had just made a chance at a successful reunion actually possible.

As I straightened up, I heard Annette say "I apologize for your long wait but it's only me and unfortunately the next shift of nurses won't be coming in until 6." Which was a good 15 minutes away and my mind started racing because unless I was crazy Annette had just given us a window, a small one, but a doable one; especially when combined with the room number she had always provided.

I nodded and unobtrusively tipped my hat to her so she knew that I read her message, both of them. Her small smile that lasted all of a millisecond of acknowledgement solidified my burgeoning hope that I had interpreted both correctly.

I purposely walked casually but with an appropriate touch of annoyance that would be fitting of someone rebuffed back to Dean and gave the boy a wink. His face shifted from annoyed to confused to vaguely hopeful if still with a strong undercurrent of skepticism. People think I have no faith in humanity, but I'm positively optimistic when compared to a Winchester, any Winchester. Even Sam could put me to shame when it came to cynicism. The odd thing was about Sam is that he accepted that humanity was screwed but still could find the good when he wanted to; unfortunately when it came to John, he didn't want to. Dean, on the other hand, struggled to forgive faults so the only ones he found good were the blameless, children and Sam. John held a peculiar place with Dean, held above suspicion but not necessarily of doubt. John was simple, he doubted everything and everyone except his children. Winchesters were a strange breed full of contradictions but somehow still so alike and set apart from the rest of us, hunters included. Now I was a pessimist and a skeptic but I believed in people, which is why I welcomed a grief-stricken father and two lost boys into my life so many years ago; a decision I never truly regretted no matter if i landed me in a hospital waiting room more times than I wanted to think about.

I laid out the bare bones of the plan to the teenager in whispered tones. He was suspicious of my faith in Annette. I couldn't blame him with CPS and Sam being secretive, Dean's already low faith in humanity must be in the negative. yet because this was about Sam he was more than willing to take the chance if it meant seeing his little brother again. The nervous energy that had been wearing on my nerves was still there but instead of tapping Metallica, he was fiddling with his leather cord. A cord I knew had an ugly little amulet on it. It always made me smile when I saw it. well i smiled on the inside, I couldn't let people think me soft. That Dean had received it instead of John came as no surprise. Those boys were bound in so many ways, a tangible symbol seemed only appropriate

The bulk of this plan rested on him as only one of us could feasibly go and get Sam. I knew that it had to be Dean for both the brothers sake. Not that Sam wouldn't trust me enough, but he would be preoccupied with Dean's whereabouts and more likely to make mistakes and worry. Dean, on the other hand, doesn't trust me enough, not with a hurt brother. He doesn't trust anyone that wasn't worth a fight so we didn't even discuss it, both assuming if only one could go that it would be Dean.

He nodded briskly and I stood up to return to the front desk. Dean also got up but edged towards the hallway. It was of vital importance that he was largely unobserved

Again working on the assumption of plausible deniability, I went up to the desk with forceful steps. I converted all my worry into angry energy striding forward with purpose. When I reached the front desk and Annette I started in, yelling something about something. The point was to make a scene so that all eyes would be focused on me. I winked at Annette in the midst of yelling so she would know I was harmless even if I sounded like a raving lunatic. In the middle of my tirade about how the doctors were overpaid and defrauding the US people of their hard earned tax dollars, the irony of which was not lost on me given the reliance of hunters like myself on actual fraud, but hey whatever works, I caught Dean slipping into the hallway out of the corner of my eye.

I barely contained my sigh of relief as I continued my rant knowing that hospital security were on their way. A grizzled redneck with a ball cap yelling at the staff was guaranteed to get me a one way pass from the hospital. Just as planned.

They came quickly indeed and as I was making a show of being dragged kicking and screaming, Annette and I shared a conspiratorial smirk.

After I was told to not come back, I got into my old truck and moved it close to the ambulance bay but out of sight from the security who were on the lookout for a angry ball hat wearing redneck.

I had done my part the rest was left to Dean. When it came to Sam I had complete faith he would pull through no matter what stood in his way.

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**end note: thanks for finishing and sorry for the short update. This was just where the natural break was. The next chapter will wrap things up and serve as an epilogue. It will probably be in both Sam and Bobby's Pov. My goal is to have it up this weekend, but I've made promises before.  
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**As always I appreciate your reviews and comments.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I switch POV in this chapter from Sam to Bobby. This switch will be indicated by a line. hope its not too confusing. This is it. the end.**

**Thanks to everyone who favorited, reviewed or followed the story. I appreciate those lurking as well ( Im a lurker all to often), even if I love feedback. Honestly It makes my day. Hope everyone enjoys it**

**As always all mistakes are mine. On that note anyone interested in betaing my future works? pretty please :D**

**Dislclaimer: I do not own supernatural and this is a complete product of my schmoopy mind. I also have only the most rudimentary medical knowledge so forgive my errors, which I know must be abundant **

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For the second time in a matter of hours, I woke up with no idea of where I was. Unfortunately, I was in the same place as last time, with meant sterile walls and no Dean. My ribs were aching and my stitches were itching, which while annoying also alerted me to the fact that I had sleeping for a while as the pain medication effect had waned as it does near the end of the dosing period. That was good as I was not as fuzzy as I had been earlier, but it also meant that hours had passed and my brother was still MIA.

The nurse had seemed optimistic that Dean would find his way in at the appropriate juncture, unfortunately I had no idea exactly when this promised window of opportunity was, as I couldn't find a clock of any sort. Of course I had a watch but in order to reach that I would have to unplug the IV line and I was afraid that might trigger something at the nurses' station that would not easily be ignored for any significant duration of time and thus would compromise the nurse's deniability. Furthermore if I triggered the alarm too early it might mean Dean getting caught.

So there I was staring at white walls and contemplating screwing all rational planning and making a bolt for it, when I heard the door open. It was a subtle sound, but considering my complete lack of stimuli and training it was as loud as a thunderclap to me. I guess Dad's training regimen was good for something besides causing sleep deprivation. Of course I rather die than let him know that. A whispered "Sam" catapulted me out of my teenage rebellion. I was surrounded by the dividing curtain so I couldn't be sure but that whisper sounded like Dean.

Then came all the confirmation I needed, a louder "Sammy". While normally that hated nickname would have triggered an eye roll and a short tempered correction, after the day I had had, it washed over me like the sugar rush I had when I was five. Dean had found a twenty dollar bill and had proceeded to buy as much candy as he could, which he then split with me. He was rewarded with a little brother that was literally bouncing off the walls: I think I actually broke a lamp in my rampage. I don't remember all of it but I do remember that rush of pure adrenaline and of course the resulting stomachache that almost caused the next world war over the bathroom.

I must have underestimated the lingering effects of the pain medication as I had every intention of pulling out the IV and running, or hobbling more likely, to the source of my adrenaline, my brother, but instead I found myself still sitting in the hospital bed when the curtain was drawn back. I can't quite describe the look on Dean's face, which is a rarity for me: I can usually categorize Dean's every gesture with barely a glance. I mean I have been studying him since I was three years old. Yet his current expression kind of looked like the look he had after Dad came back from a hunt after days without any communication, but it was so much more desperate. I guess on second thought I understood, it was the same desperation I had felt when faced with never seeing my brother again on waking up in this place.

Dean just stood there for a second just staring at me with an uncomfortable intensity. "Hey, Dean" I whispered to break the silence and hopefully that discomforting stare. That did break the tension and propel my bother to my bed. Before I knew it his arms were around me and my no chick flick brother was holding onto me for dear life. When I was younger he used to hug me frequently, but such moments almost disappeared by the time I found out about the family business. It still happened, but almost only in the wake of a life or death situation, you know beyond the everyday deathly peril of of hunting the supernatural, and while the stab wound was no picnic it was far from life threatening. I awkwardly raised my arm, the relatively uninjured one to awkwardly pat my brothers back. We stayed that way for several long seconds. To be honest by the end I was holding on just as tightly. We let go almost simultaneously, but Dean retreated just far enough to be able to scan my injuries. I could almost see him mentally cataloging the stitches and how I winced when my ribs let their annoyance be felt after being squeezed within an inch of their life. A frown started to form in his brow and I could see the lecture starting, so I tried to cut it off at the pass.

"Wasn't there something about a limited window of opportunity for escaping this hell hole? You can stare at me later. Actually on second thought, let's not do the staring. It's a little stalker even for you" I said the last with a smirk to let him now I didn't mean it. It was lame but something needed to be said to forestall the lecture so that we could actually leave.

"You wish." His smirk let me know that my message was received. Before I could blink, he went into efficient soldier mode and removed my IV and had an arm around my shoulders to help me up off the bed before I knew it. I winced as my side and stitches protested the sudden movement

"I swear I can't leave you alone for a second." I smirked at his teasing before responding the only way I could with a muttered but perfectly audible "Jerk."

Dean actually smiled at that before replying "Bitch." It probably says something about the dysfunction in our family that that exchange made me feel better than the morphine or even the nurse's promise to help. That word from my brother meant that everything would be ok. I couldn't contain my smile and apparently neither could Dean. We shared dopey smiles as he helped me towards my stuff.

Once there, I quickly gathered my clothes and went behind the curtain to change. Privacy in our lives might be in short supply in our lifestyle, but that just made it more valuable and thus worth tweaking my stitches and ribs for even a little of it. Dean just raised his eyebrow at my modesty and smirked. I ignored his amusement and proceeded to shed that hospital gown for my jeans and shirt. The jeans were fine but the shirt was another story. It was covered in dried blood and had a gash in it. I was surprised they hadn't just trashed it. I shrugged and put it on. It was a dark shirt so the blood wouldn't be too noticeable at a far distance and let's be honest if anyone looked closely at us we were already screwed. I came from behind the curtain more than ready to be on our way.

I expected Dean to greet me with a smirk and he did. Then he actually saw me and all the blood drained from his face as his gaze centered on my stomach. I nervously chuckled "It looks worse than it was"

Dean tried to smile at my attempt at reassurance but his eyes didn't meet mine or lift at all from the stain on my shirt. I guess theres a difference between someone telling you your brother had been stabbed and seeing the physical evidence of it. But Dean's reaction seemed overboard it wasn't like I hadn't been hurt before; I mean these ribs were for a hunt not even a month ago.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy. I should have been there." Dean said it so quietly I almost didnt hear it but it was eeriely quite in the room.

"You couldn't have done anything. It was some stupid kids that got lucky. It IS NOT YOUR FAULT." I almost shouted the last part as I could see the self-recrimination machine that was my brother's mind when it came to me injured come on full force. My near shout snapped Dean out of his guilt or whatever it was and he took his place beside me, hunching down so he could provide support as we made our way out of the room. I knew we needed to talk but getting out of this place and away from the threat of CPS was more important than the recriminations and guilt we were both experiencing.

" Get a move on squirt, Bobby wont wait forever" Dean snarked as I paused by the door of the hospital room to do a quick sweep of the room.

"Bobby?" I questioned as this was the first time I had heard of his presence in this drama.

"Yea, called him up when I couldn't get a hold of Dad. You know how bad reception is in the forest. Anyway, Bobby is waiting for us in the ambulance Bay to make our getaway " There was a studied casualness to his reply. Like I didn't know that Winchesters never called for back up unless it was life and death and then only if it was some one else's life you were gambling with. If nothing else, Dean calling Bobby gave me insight into how worried my brother must have been and how close and real the threat of CPS was. I have never been so glad to have been drugged in my life if it meant that I was spared hours of thinking about being separated from my family due to my own stupidity. I was shocked that Dean had called Bobby for something as insignificant as stitches, but also relieved that there was an adult in our corner. For all that Dean likes to act tough, he was only 17 and I know the older man's presence had been welcomed even if Dean would rather die than admit it.

It was not the time to discuss my bother's worry or desperation, so I gritted my teeth and let my brother practically drag me down the hallway to the ambulance bay. And it was dragging as Dean was at least a foot taller than me, which meant my legs couldn't even begin to keep up with his. Usually I would have insisted on making my on way, but given all the clues into my brother's current mental state, I just went with it; I had a feeling Dean needed to feel in control of something even if it was something as small as our pace to the waiting car.

The first breath of fresh air tasted like freedom. The rest of our escape was a blur of motion of Dean hustled me into the waiting car as people demanded to know what we were doing. I was barely in ( but miraculously buckled in such a way to avoid pressure on both my stitches and abused ribs) when the car sped off. It wasn't the impala but the roar of the engine and the feel of my brother letting me lean on him were enough to lull me into a comfortable sleep.

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I've said it once and I will say it again. those boys will be the death of me.

Here I am practically breaking the sound barrier fleeing from a hospital with a newly stitched up pre-teen in the backseat, snoring and drooling on his big brother. If I wasn't involved in a potential high speed pursuit I would have taken a picture of the two of them. Dean wasn't even bothering to pay attention to anything but his little brother, who he was staring at with unnerving intensity. I suspect he was looking for even the slightest hint of discomfort from the younger boy and would probably be able to detect it before even Sam himself.

Fortunately for everyone especially my old truck, we lost our pursuers ten miles out of the city limits. Two runaway boys did not merit an extensive chase it seems. So there was no reason besides getting those boys someplace safe to push my old girl to her limits; I made record time back to South Dakota. Luckily a pick up ten years past ancient is not a prime target for police looking to get their quotas in. The conversation was a bit on the light side with Sam down for the count and Dean oblivious to anyone that wasn't under five feet with shaggy hair, hazel eyes and a perchance for using his almost grown big brother as a pillow and blanket all in one.

Once we got to the house it was the same way it had always been. Dean took care Sam and I tried and largely failed to make Dean take care of himself. Sam recovered rather quickly other than a slight fever from a light inflection from his wound, but if you judged Sam's condition by Dean's behavior you would have assumed that Sam was on his death bed. I was even getting frustrated at the levels of absurdity in Dean's protectiveness: I swear the boy would have chewed Sam's food for him if Sam would not have have pitched a fit that would have made a vengeful spirit seem rational. SO I was far from surprised when things finally came to a boiling point between the two after about a week of Dean's hovering.

"I'm FINE. I can lift my plate without tearing my stitches. You know what might tear them? strangling my pain in the ass brother." Sam almost shouted his protest as Dean swooped in to clear Sam's lunch from the table. He had been hovering at Sam's elbow practically the whole night and was grating on my nerves so i can imagine Sam's were beyond frayed.

"Maybe, if I could trust you not to get yourself in trouble every time I turn my back, I would believe you. I mean its not like you would keep things like this a secret. Oh wait that is what you do." Dean almost snarled back. I had been expecting this blowout ever since Dean told me about his brother keeping secrets. I could have left them to work things out in private but since these were Winchesters we are talking about I wanted to ensure with my own two ears they actually resolved this. And to be there to knock their heads together if they didn't.

Sam was visibily deflated at the rawness in Dean's reply, " Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep anything from you. I really didn't think it was a big deal"

"well, you were wrong. Anyone messing with you for any reason is a BIG DEAL. Look what happened. You passed out and had to have your guts sewn back together. Worse, you were almost taken by freakin' CPS. What would I have done..." He trailed off but both Sam and I knew the rest of the question.

What would Dean do without Sam? some morons would think the answer would be something like be a kid or fulfill his potential thinking that it would be a relief not to have to shoulder the responsibility of a little brother who was far from obedient or safe but I knew that without Sam, Dean would be lost like a ship without an anchor: it wouldn't be long to he ran aground or sunk from pure listlessness.

Sam was young enough that he hadn't quite mastered his emotions like a true Winchester and tears were streaking down his face at the raw pain and desperation in Dean's voice. He hurtled himself at his brother stitches at all. They stood there in the middle of my kitchen clinging to each other for all they were worth. Sam might feel like the burden others too often saw him as, but he also knew deep down that it wasn't duty that bonded him with Dean. They were stronger together because they were whole together.

"idjits" I muttered to myself as I left the room to give them their privacy. Everything probably would not get said or resolved but this moment was to raw and desperate for anyone else to be a witness to, even a well-intentioned surrogate Uncle. If later than evening I noticed a shirt burning in the fireplace, it was only fitting. Those boys didn't need any reminders of how close they came to losing each other. I had a faint hope some guilt and insecurities were also being laid to rest with that reminder.

Later on after the emotions had settle and Sam and Dean had gone back to their normal except with maybe a notch more tactile and than normal (they barely let the other out of their sight and preferred some physical contact to reassure themselves that they weren't alone ), I asked Sam about the knife. I had been curious why it never popped up at the school or the hospital.

Sam smiled at my question and replied " I ditched it when I saw those kids waiting for me after school. I figured they had called the cops on me or something. Plus I was kind of in the mood for a fight and with that knife I kind of had an unfair advantage."

I just looked at the kid, small for his age still nursing bruised ribs, that had thought him having a knife was unfair when facing at least 5 to 1 odds. I couldn't resist a chuckle because I knew he was probably right in any other situation.

"So, I guess you'll be wanting another knife now?" I asked already going through my mental catalog of my stockpile for a possible replacement.

"why? I mean Dean picked it up." Sam asked bewildered.

"He did?" the boys hadn't left my house since our getaway from the hospital and as far as I knew Dean hadn't left the hospital since Sam had been admitted.

"Dean, can I have my knife back?" he called across the yard to his brother, who was currently fiddling with something on my truck.

" No. Not until you know enough to use it instead of just throw it away because some idiots got in over their head and you think he deserves a fighting chance. " Dean responded without any heat but also without any hesitation. Sam half-heartedly pouted before turning to me, with an eyebrow raised as if to say I told you so. Somehow, I knew that this was the first time they had discussed the knife since the fight, but with these two words were largely superfluous. It made me smile to see them back in sync, but then again it seems they never were truly out of it.

"My boys and their dangerous toys," I thought of Sam and Dean weeks later after John had come by to pick them up. I had been absently tracking news in West Bend, since the boys left, when I came across an article about a strange string of assaults on teenagers, about five of them. Each of them had been stabbed with a butterfly knife before someone, presumably the attacker called 911. No one was seriously hurt and I'm not sure I could have driven myself to care even if they had been. The echo of the desperation in Dean's voice on the phone and the memory of the grimace of pain on Sam's face hardened my heart.

It was my first glimpse at the lengths Sam and Dean would go for each other. It would not be my last.

I was always honored to witness it

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**A/N: The End.**

**Thanks for reading. I appreciate your feedback**


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